(no subject)
i know i deleted all the entries from the summer pretty much, but this one means a lot to me.
so i'm reposting it.
and basically if you need to know anything about me... you can learn it here.
reading this makes me smile.
this entry is really a bunch of texts, strung together, that were sent to alana last night. the onyl thing that has been changed is typos. here we go.
"oh my god when you close your eyes, everything you've ever liked or thought to be ideal has been brought to you and now you see, dude, you know. i'm typing to you on this thin cracker box of technology, but really it's so much more than that, which we know, but girl i know. it's too much perfect for my brain to hold almost but there is room now that i've emptied to you.
i feel completely other worldly, not like how people say "i was watching myself like a movie" i mean, wait, it is kind of like that. it's exactly like that. i feel like this big cardboard robot of sorts eating peach granola bars and having soft shampooed hair. this phone had better send this to you, i think he's trying to keep secrets.
if i don't pay attention my finger tips drift away like my nag champa does. the tips that scratch someone else's nose, caity mcdowell's nose, scratched by lone peach granola bar eating hand.
so then i wonder is it caity or is it the narrator who is sending these to you.
where are you? this is kind of like talking inside my mind, you just take all of this and put it in a filing cabinet in my mind warehouse, god you must have freetime.
this is how i'm seen by the world from the world, and it's not bad, i think i'll be okay with me. like physically, i like me, the product caity mcdowell, it'd buy it.
i'm glad you're here to like listen for now cause i need to let some ideas out to make room for the new ones, mannequin arms sent you this.
big foots hands typed this!
i hope when they find my face it's not all hollowed out like it feels hollowed out like this phone, which isn't even a phone really. i'm punching everything out onto this, i hope he doesn't have a memory of touch, or knowledge of who these words could harm. good thing this has no heart or brain, dumb phone, just as well as cardboard salami.
everything is so much better, i understand music, alana, mind, phone, whom it may concern fuckin bulllshit. i love it, music and lyrics goddddddddddddd dayumn i understand."
so i'm reposting it.
and basically if you need to know anything about me... you can learn it here.
reading this makes me smile.
this entry is really a bunch of texts, strung together, that were sent to alana last night. the onyl thing that has been changed is typos. here we go.
"oh my god when you close your eyes, everything you've ever liked or thought to be ideal has been brought to you and now you see, dude, you know. i'm typing to you on this thin cracker box of technology, but really it's so much more than that, which we know, but girl i know. it's too much perfect for my brain to hold almost but there is room now that i've emptied to you.
i feel completely other worldly, not like how people say "i was watching myself like a movie" i mean, wait, it is kind of like that. it's exactly like that. i feel like this big cardboard robot of sorts eating peach granola bars and having soft shampooed hair. this phone had better send this to you, i think he's trying to keep secrets.
if i don't pay attention my finger tips drift away like my nag champa does. the tips that scratch someone else's nose, caity mcdowell's nose, scratched by lone peach granola bar eating hand.
so then i wonder is it caity or is it the narrator who is sending these to you.
where are you? this is kind of like talking inside my mind, you just take all of this and put it in a filing cabinet in my mind warehouse, god you must have freetime.
this is how i'm seen by the world from the world, and it's not bad, i think i'll be okay with me. like physically, i like me, the product caity mcdowell, it'd buy it.
i'm glad you're here to like listen for now cause i need to let some ideas out to make room for the new ones, mannequin arms sent you this.
big foots hands typed this!
i hope when they find my face it's not all hollowed out like it feels hollowed out like this phone, which isn't even a phone really. i'm punching everything out onto this, i hope he doesn't have a memory of touch, or knowledge of who these words could harm. good thing this has no heart or brain, dumb phone, just as well as cardboard salami.
everything is so much better, i understand music, alana, mind, phone, whom it may concern fuckin bulllshit. i love it, music and lyrics goddddddddddddd dayumn i understand."